A Cantata of Love (The Code Breakers 4) (10 page)

Like the years in the convent, she was marking time, waiting. She must face reality, that there was no going back. She must make a new life in this new country. But how to go about this new life? Living with Lady Gwyneth and Aunt Euphemia was a temporary situation. She didn’t want to be a burden to anyone, including Michael, who seemed to believe he was responsible for her.

A slender, ravishing woman with flame-red hair emerged from behind the curtain. “Gwyneth…and Mademoiselle Gabrielle.”

Gabby had mixed feelings about meeting this lady after Gwyneth’s disclosure that the lady had believed herself to be in love with Michael until she met her fiancé. Gabby wasn’t quite sure if Gwyneth was warning her off Michael or confirming what a rake Michael had been. Or still was? Gwyneth needn’t bother since Gabby still stung with the memory of Michael’s delirious confusion about with whom he was sharing his bed.

Gabby didn’t want to admit that she missed the attractive rake and continued to call him Michael in her thoughts. She told herself over and over that the only reason she missed his company was because he was the most familiar person in all of London with everything and everyone else new. She privately wished that, despite the risk, he would call on her—to have a few moments when she felt hopeful and alive, inspired by his sunny, warm presence.

“Gabby, this is my dearest friend Amelia Bonnington, soon to be Lady Brinsley.”

Gabby curtsied. “Thank you for your willingness to see me on short notice, Miss Bonnington.”

The beauty curtsied. “I would have come to Ashworth House, but Gwyneth insisted that you both needed to get out of the house. Gwyneth does like to stay busy.”

“After the last two dreary days, stuck inside by the rain, Gabby and I needed an adventure. And what can be more fun than seeing fabrics and discussing a new wardrobe,” Lady Gwyneth said.

Gabby’s only break had been with Aunt Euphemia, two days before, to meet with the solicitor. She had become a very wealthy woman in her own right. With great foresight, Lucien had transferred most of his funds to England and had left her a sizable fortune.

“Lady Gwyneth and Lady Henrietta have kindly provided my clothing for the past days. But I am in a need of an entirely new wardrobe,” Gabby said.

“An entirely new wardrobe. Are there any better words spoken by a woman?” Miss Bonnington spread her arms out, encompassing the entire room.

A young woman, with her chestnut-colored hair pulled back into a tight chignon, in a plain muslin dress, entered the anteroom. She carried a small silver tray with flutes of champagne. Her blushing cheeks and round face reminded Gabby of Lisette, her
mémé’s
daughter, a fresh country miss.

“Mademoiselle Gabrielle, this is Elodie. And this is her shop,” Miss Bonnington said.

Gabby hid her surprise that this young woman was the modiste. In Paris, the dressmakers were highly sophisticated women who attracted customers with their haughty attitude and panache.

The shy woman bowed her head and curtsied. “May I serve you all champagne?”

The ladies sat is a semi-circle on diminutive ladies’ chairs, their gowns overflowing around them.

Miss Bonnington chimed in, “I give advice on color, design, and the choice of fabrics, but it is Elodie who does all the magic, transforming my ideas into beautiful gowns.”

Elodie said in a small voice, “Thank you, my lady,” and curtsied again.

“Champagne would be delightful.” Lady Gwyneth accepted the filled flute. “And, Elodie, you shouldn’t be embarrassed. You are becoming the most stylish modiste in London.”

“Because of patronage from you and Miss Amelia, my lady,” Elodie said.

Gabby experienced another flash of memory of sitting with her mother and her cousin in Madame Beauchamp’s salon, gossiping and being allowed to sip champagne. That had been her first adult woman experience, in a more lighthearted time of her youth…of another lifetime.

Miss Amelia, looking over her glass, carefully inspected Gabby. “Gwyneth didn’t exaggerate your beauty. And, no matter what you wear, you’ll look divine.” No wonder Miss Amelia was Lady Gwyneth’s close friend. They both shared an unfettered enthusiasm.

Gabby wasn’t accustomed to such effusive praise. “Thank you. The only dress I possess is the one I travelled in. And after living in a convent and then being disguised… I’m ready to have a new wardrobe.” She didn’t know how much Miss Amelia was aware of her circumstances.

Acquiring a wardrobe was a much easier task than the painful meeting with Lucien’s solicitor. Signing the official documents had made her brother’s death final.

The next decisions were very difficult without her brother’s guidance—where to live, whom to trust, and how to protect herself against Napoleon’s men. She had never lived on her own, but she must now learn quickly.

Lady Amelia leaned closer to Gabby. “Gwyneth shared how you travelled out of France. You can trust me with your secret, but you must not share the information with anyone else. It would be disastrous for your reputation. Now, having given you that sensible and proper advice, Gwyneth and I are very envious of the adventure and want all the details.” Miss Amelia clapped her hands together in anticipation.

“I’m very aware of the censure of society for such an unorthodox method of travelling, but expediency was the priority. And of course, I would never want to embarrass Lord Kendal.”

“Embarrass Michael!” Miss Bonnington laughed, covering her mouth. “You surely must know that Michael is known for getting into all sorts of misadventures and causing havoc.”

“No, he never shared that part of his past.” But Gabby recognized that his appealing, boyish curiosity might lead him into trouble. His high spirits were new and attractive. His genuine manner was refreshing, especially after the affected French men who flaunted their importance. “The first time I met Lord Kendal he fell off the settee, spilled brandy in his boots, and swore in front of Mother Superior.”

“Sounds like Michael. Oh, the stories, I could tell. Did Gwyneth explain that my family estate borders the Harcourt estate? My brothers and I grew up with Michael and Henrietta.”

“No, I hadn’t realized that you were childhood friends, my lady. How fortunate to be surrounded by other children.”

Gwyneth crossed her legs in the same manner as Aunt Euphemia. “Gabby, you don’t have to ‘lady’ us when we’re alone. We’re of the same age, not some dowdy dowagers.”

“I’ll try, Gwyneth, but all my training in a convent isn’t easy to overcome.”

“It must have been dreadful living in a convent. All the rules.” Gwyneth gestured with her free hand. “I would have probably run away.”

“I had no choice. It was the only safe place.”

Gwyneth uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “I’m sorry. How insensitive of me.”

“You’re not insensitive. You speak honestly and without artifice.” Gabby admired Gwyneth and appreciated how openly caring and affectionate she was. “And there were many days in the convent that I wished I could run away.”

“I’m not very good at following rules. I probably would have been beaten regularly.” Gwyneth laughed.

Gabby joined her enjoyment. “We were never beaten. I can’t imagine any of the sisters using physical punishment, but then again, none of us considered breaking the rules.”

“I am glad that I had Aunt Euphemia to encourage me to look beyond society’s restrictive rules for women. But, as my husband likes to point out, sometimes my behavior is not ladylike.”

“That can’t possibly be true.” Amelia winked at Gabby as if they were co-conspirators. “I regularly wanted to run away from my five brothers. There were days when I wished I were an only child.”

“I would love to have grown up with Amelia’s brothers.” Gwyneth sipped her champagne. “I hardly got to play with my brothers. They both were much older.”

“Five brothers?”

“Yes, it does sometimes boggle the brain,” Amelia admitted.

“I’m envious. Lucien was never home when I was growing up. And then he was forced to fulfill the role of both mother and father for me.” Gabby was surprised by the quiver in her voice. She had been enjoying the conversation until the mention of Lucien caused an unexpected rush of sorrow.

“I’m very sorry for your loss.” Amelia patted Gabby’s hand. “Gwyneth and I want to help you in any way we can.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“And our first step is to start with a new wardrobe.” Amelia stood. “I am to understand that you won’t be wearing mourning.”

Gwyneth turned to Gabby. “Amelia can be trusted.”

“I am to be a friend of the Rathbourne family and not to publicly declare my true identity, although I do believe it won’t be long before I’m recognized.”

Gabby had to trust her new identity to Gwyneth and Aunt Euphemia, and now Amelia. After being chased by Napoleon’s men across France, she had agreed to the plan of keeping her identity a secret. She had witnessed the lengths to which Napoleon would go to secure her fortune.

“For your protection,” Gwyneth added.

“Yes, I understand, but I feel badly not to mourn my brother.”

“But your brother would want you to be kept safe. He hid you away. It won’t be forever, just until we know Napoleon has abandoned his efforts to take you back to France.”

Amelia brought her hand to her chest. “How awful. I’m glad you’re staying with Aunt Euphemia and Ash.”

Gabby wondered how the elderly Aunt Euphemia could be of any assistance.

“I appreciate Gwyneth’s hospitality, but I hope to soon establish my own residence.” Both Aunt Euphemia and Gwyneth had been adamant that she remain with them to allow herself time to recover from her loss and to be assured it was safe to leave Ash’s protection.

Gwyneth put her glass down. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Today, we’re starting with the new wardrobe. Let me show you a few of the newest fabrics that have arrived.”

“She must wear blue, don’t you agree?” Gwyneth asked.

“Of course, and we’ve received a lovely lavender. Not an insipid pastel but the coolness of an amethyst.”

“Amelia likes bold colors and bold designs. When she was going through a Greek phase, she designed a revealing toga for me. My aunt almost had a conniption. She was speechless, and for my Aunt Euphemia, that is no small feat.”

Gabby giggled with the ladies, her spirits buoyed by the easy company and possibly the champagne she had consumed.

The tinkling bell disrupted their amusement.

A reed-slender lady with a narrow face, thin lips, and wide-set, prominent eyes entered on the arm of gentleman in a purple coat with a puce waistcoat. She wore a tightly-fitted, reddish-purple walking dress, almost the same color as her escort’s coat. His darkish-brown hair was slicked back away from his high forehead with pomade. In the outmoded manner of a Frenchman of fashion, he stopped and produced a snuff box.

The lady did a slight curtsy. “Miss Bonnington, just the person I had hoped to meet today. And Lady Gwyneth. Such a pleasure.” The lady drew out the word “pleasure” in a dusky, seductive voice.

Amelia curtsied. “Lady Sauvage and Lord Weston.”

Gwyneth and Gabby remained seated.

“Miss Amelia.” Lord Weston bowed then turned to them. “Lady Gwyneth.” He bowed again. “You are looking in grand spirits. Marriage must agree with you.”

“Thank you, Lord Weston.”

Lord Weston searched Gabby’s face in interest. Gabby lowered her eyes at the officious man’s flagrant perusal.

“I haven’t had the pleasure, my lady,” Lord Weston said.

“Where are my manners? Lady Sauvage and Lord Weston, this is my dear friend, Lady Gigot.”

“Gigot? I don’t recall hearing that name.” Lady Sauvage’s voice dripped with arrogance. “Are you new to society?”

The thin woman’s penetrating scrutiny of Gabby’s borrowed, ill-fitting dress and bonnet should have made Gabby squirm in the chair. But after her years under Mother Therese’s critical scrutiny, this one woman had no effect on her.

“I’ve just arrived from France,” Gabby said.

Knowing the woman wanted her pedigree to decide whether Gabby was worthy of her attention, Gabby tilted her head with insouciance. Because she was an unknown French woman with connections to a very old and powerful English family, she would draw interest and speculation in the very closed society. She wasn’t in the least intimidated by the woman’s curiosity. She was, after all, the daughter of a marquis.

“My Aunt Euphemia and Lady Gigot’s grandmother were close friends. We are bringing our dear family friend into London society,” Gwyneth said.

The stylish gentleman bowed grandiosely. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Gigot. I’ve not seen you at any events. I would remember such a fair flower amongst the ladies.”

She wanted to laugh at his exaggerated flatteries. She neither liked nor trusted outrageous adulation. It seemed she preferred straightforward and teasing gentlemen. “I’ve not been out in society yet.”

“Will you be attending the opera to hear Madame Abney sing this week?” He eyed her with hungry curiosity.

Gabby looked to Lady Gwyneth for guidance. “It will depend on my hostess’s plans.”

“I hope, Lady Gwyneth, you can be convinced to allow your guest time away from your company to attend Coventry Garden. Madame Abney is known throughout Europe for her incredible vocal range and dramatic presentation,” he said.